Burnout
by SpearmintMirage
Summary: All Samson had wanted was to jump on a motorcycle, ride out into the middle of nowhere, and have a life of his own. But like everything with the Medicis, things could never be so simple. [Author's note: This is a fully human AU with no supernatural elements like the Skull Heart.]


There were names for this place on a roadmap. For good reason, "No Man's Land" was the one that stuck.

A line through a tan blotch on a map did little justice to the scope of the warm arid expanse. Dust and sparse vegetation spread for miles, split by a seemingly endless road. Any rise in elevation rested along mountain ranges barely visible in the shade of night. During the day, the heat could be unbearable, but on nights like tonight the air was pleasantly cool, the sky above cut by the moon and hundreds of stars.

Contrary to popular belief, there were a few dots of civilization around this wasteland. The largest was a modest town, though quiet at this hour. The loudest signs of life came from its outskirts, a dive bar just off the road, parking lot lined with cars and motorcycles illuminated by streetlamps light.

Only people with simple needs or without a future would live out here, and on a Saturday night, this place was full of them. Muffled music played within the walls, briefly leaking out as the front door squeaked open and a brick wall of a man skulked outside.

He looked half like a greaser, in a leather jacket along with a white tank top, jeans and boots. His black hair, styled into a pompadour, led into sideburns then a short scruffy beard, all framing a strong tired face. Before the door slammed shut, he gave a short wave behind him to the patrons inside casting friendly insults and wishing him a good night.

Sober enough to drive, fatigued enough to sleep as soon as he got home. An uneventful end to a Saturday, but a good one in his book.

Walking up to a motorcycle parked in the front lot, he dug through his pockets for his keys when a meek voice addressed him.

"Um, excuse me?"

He looked over his shoulder to find a teenage girl approaching. People around here could be clean-cut, but she stood out, wearing a fresh-pressed button-up blouse and a pleated skirt with a headband pushing back her long blonde hair. He couldn't help but eye the purse over her shoulder, a designer brand if he wasn't mistaken. Her face was full of nervous curiosity as she craned her neck a little to look him in the eye.

"Are you Samson?" She asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"…Me?"

That should have sounded like an insult, but her tone showed no indication. He had nowhere pressing to be, so he humored her.

"Yeah, I'm Samson."

She sighed in relief. "Oh, thank goodness! I thought I'd never find you."

"You've been looking for me?"

"Well yeah, you're the reason I'm here, after all."

"Really." He'd never been called out so politely in a parking lot before. "What for?"

"Well, I thought you'd be at your house, but no one answered, so I came here."

So she knew where he lived, and when no one was home her first instinct was to check the only bar in town. Either she knew him or just knew what to expect from people who lived around here.

"I get _why_ you're here, but why were you looking for me in the first place?"

"Well, where else am I supposed to-" She suddenly frowned, "Wait…do you recognize me?"

"Nope."

Her eyes threatened to mist over, and he didn't want to stick around for the misplaced waterworks.

"Look, you got the wrong guy." He started to walk away. "Do yourself a favor and go somewhere worth being."

Her voice suddenly spiked in frustration. "Samson, it's _me_! Filia!"

He froze. Now _there_ was a name.

Memories came rushing back, and as he looked her over again, her features started to fade into familiarity. While her light hair was her mother's, the dark hue of her eyes was unfortunately like his. The voice was familiar too, if half a pitch lower. The polite demeanor had thrown him off, but if he pictured her a little shorter, with a smug look on her face…

"No way." He muttered. "Filia?"

The next second, her arms were wrapped around him. "You _do_ remember me!"

He glanced around the parking lot, making sure no one was witness to this awkward encounter then slowly pushed her an arm's length away. She seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort, smiling ear to ear.

"I can't believe you got so tall." She marveled. "And you grew a beard!"

"Yeah, you, uh…you got pretty tall too." He mustered in reply, still bewildered.

"It's so good to see you again. I had heard you left the city, but I had no idea you were all the way out here!"

"Well, I wanted a change of pace from New Meridian, and this is where I ended up." He refocused on the matter at hand. "But never mind that, what are _you_ doing here?"

"Didn't my Dad tell you?"

"Tell me _what_?"

They both fell quiet as he waited for an answer. His gaze on her narrowed, and she smiled nervously, searching for the gentlest explanation. Just when he started to feel the rush of an incoming bombshell, she finally spoke up.

"So…" She tapped her fingers together, "Funny story."

* * *

"Put him on the phone, Vitale."

_"He's not here."_

"Like Hell he's not there!"

Samson banged against the wall of an aged phone booth that stood at the edge of the lot, its interior lit by a single flickering lightbulb. It was functional, but the scratched glass struggled to contain both his wild gestures and shouts into the receiver.

"You gotta be kidding me! I haven't seen him in five years, and he sends me his kid?! He could've given me a heads-up at least!"

_"You didn't leave a phone number, Samson."_

He wasn't about to admit Vitale was right. "Well you still managed to figure out where I was."

_"Marcus already knows where you live. Apparently, he had your address."_

"Yeah, I sent it to him a while ago in case he found any important stuff I missed when I was packing. Guess I forgot to send it to you too."

Vitale's voice twitched in annoyance. _"How…thoughtful. And yet you didn't think to send a new phone number?"_

"Not important." Samson diverted. "I don't even know how you got her out here. I'm surprised she didn't get kidnapped."

He glanced over his shoulder. Thankfully, she was still sitting on the curb, patiently sipping a bottle of water.

_"We did our best," _Vitale responded,_ "And she's a little more capable than she looks. That said, hopefully she'll be safer in your care."_

"And what am I supposed to do with her, huh? I don't have any room for her at my place, and I don't have time to babysit either."

_"She's sixteen."_

He threw his hands in the air. "Whatever! I haven't seen her since she was what, ten? I didn't even recognize her at first, since she's so…_nice_. Did she hit her head or somethin'?"

_"She grew out of her bad habits, Samson. Most people do that, unlike you."_

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How did you even convince Marcus to do this?"

_"It was his idea. And it's more like he wouldn't be doing this if we had any other choice. Not to mention you owe us after all the trouble you caused before you ran off on us, and after that for that matter. Your departure and little spats with Leviathan came up when we were trying to make peace with the Contiellos, and it did not make us look good."_

"Yeah, well-" He paused and leaned against the phone booth wall. "Wait, what happened with the Contiellos?"

_"That's…not important. The point is, Filia's there now and she needs somewhere to stay. You don't even have to bring her home. Once everything has calmed down, I'll send Cassandra to come pick her up."_

"Oh yeah, Bella!" He snapped his fingers. "How's she doing?"

_"She's…fine."_

"Good to hear. I guess you've been keeping her busy as your little errand girl."

Samson heard a satisfying sigh from the other side of the line.

_"I understand this is inconvenient,"_ Vitale admitted, _"But Filia isn't safe here right now."_

"Why not?"

_"She just _isn't_. That's why Marcus is trusting you with this. Like it or not, he's doing what's best for his child."_

"And what would you know about that?"

The air held still on both ends of the line. Samson wasn't keen on opening old wounds, but Vitale brought out the worst in him. He decided to bite his tongue, and only act defensively, and luckily when Vitale spoke, he chose to resist too.

_"Alright, just…listen. You don't like this. Neither do I or your grandfather or even Marcus and Amelia. But you're the only one of us who's left New Meridian, and if anyone still thinks you're part of the family, they don't know where you are. You aren't in danger so long as you're out there and neither is she. Trust me just this once when I say we have no other option."_

Samson leaned an arm against the glass and stared out at Filia. The longer he did, the clearer his dusty memories became.

_"She's family, Samson. Surely that still means something to you."_

He ran every grating scene of his old home through his head. Every passive-aggressive jab, every pinch of pressure to be someone different, every tireless complaint from every branch of his family tree.

"Fine." He relented. "But no guarantee she won't be a heavy drinker by the time she gets back."

_"I guess that's as much as I can ask for."_

* * *

Filia had just finished her water bottle when Samson returned, an exasperated look still plastered to his face.

"Is everything okay?" She asked.

"Yeah." It wasn't, but he rummaged through his motorcycle's side bag and tossed her his helmet anyway. "We're gonna head back to my place. You ever ridden one of these before?"

"Nope."

Of course she hadn't. With Vitale's iron fist, it was a miracle he had even touched one when he was sixteen. "Just get on and don't let go of me once we get going."

She took a seat sidesaddle on the bike while he started throwing her belongings into the side bag, surprised by how little she had brought for someone living the high life. Knowing the family, he assumed they had just thrown her a few weeks' allowance instead to save space. (Still more than Samson's rent, he also assumed.)

"My place is no Medici Tower, but it's decent." He continued. "You're gonna have to sleep on the couch though."

"That's okay, I don't mind. Do you live alone?"

"No, I got a roommate and a dog."

"Oh…okay."

And _of course_ she didn't like dogs. She called them "slobber factories" back in the day, and no matter how different she was now, he could tell that hadn't changed.

"Well, at least you'll like my roommate. She'll be around tomorrow, maybe she can help you get settled in."

Filia's eyes twinkled. "_'She'_?"

The implication flew high over his head. "Yeah, a friend of mine. We ran into each other a few years back."

"What's she like?"

"She's…nice."

'Nice'. As if she wasn't going to laugh herself to death when he explained this in the morning. But she wouldn't be his best friend if she couldn't be as much of an ass as he was.

Shooing her further back on the seat, he took his place in front and turned the keys in the ignition. The rumble of the engine brought some ease to his anxiety. He couldn't even begin to think about this whole mess in the long-term. What he needed was a short ride and a good night's sleep. He'd figure out where to fit her into his life tomorrow.

His mind couldn't help but wander back to New Meridian. Just from Vitale, he could tell things weren't perfect with the family. They took a real risk sending Filia out here even if Marcus did trust Samson more than anyone else in the family did.

As much as he tried not to be, he was worried. Vitale, Lorenzo, and all their goons could take a long walk off a short pier for all he cared, but Marcus and Amelia were good people. Not to mention Cerebella – sorry, _Cassandra_, a fine name even if Vitale acted like he owned it – was still under Vitale's thumb, probably promoted from doing chores to dirty work that, worst case scenario, could get her hurt.

Funny how Vitale cared more about the precious heiress than he did his own kids. Samson hoped to high heaven it would come back to bite him in the ass.

For the first time in years, a malicious spark lit up in Samson's eyes.

Maybe there was a silver lining here, more than just another friendly face and at least _one_ housemate who wouldn't steal his leftovers. There were ways to twist this in his favor, a little more compensation or one final jab for old times' sake. He'd have to be careful to keep the innocent out of his line of fire, but if he aimed for the right targets….

He had given up on that life a long time ago, and he'd sworn that all the money in the world couldn't drag him back into it. Even so, that didn't stop a devious smile from emerging on his face.

He was still a Medici after all, right? And all that was left of that legacy for him now was the spite in his blood.

"Samson?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for letting me stay with you. I know it's pretty sudden and everything."

"Yeah, no problem."

"And…I was pretty young when you left, and I know we weren't the closest," She hugged Samson so genuinely that he could feel his skin crawl, "But it's nice to see you again."

He took a deep strained breath then slowly exhaled. "Damn you, Vitale."

"Hm?"

"Nothin'."

He revved the engine and sped off with his cousin into the night, praying to whatever higher power that was listening that there was still booze at home.


End file.
